Family Affairs
by pseudonymitous
Summary: Auggie & Annie's latest mission is complicated. This time it's personal, and it's a family affair. Works best in the context of post-Parker but pre-finale. (I wrote this back in November, but people requested I add more detail and make the story longer, so I added to and edited the original 7, and will be adding new chapters. Please leave feedback!) Rated T for language
1. Waking Up Is Hard To Do

It was the kind of night most C.I.A. agents would, and have, killed for. Annie Walker clocked out at 5 p.m. sharp, paperwork filed and desk tidied. For the first time in a long time, everything was all squared away. She was so impressed with herself that she skipped a trip to the tavern and cut straight to a night with Ben, Jerry and the DVR. Lights out at 11. It was like a dream, until...

Vvvvv-VVVV.

No. Annie rolled over onto her stomach and buried her face in the pillows. Nope.

Vvvvvv-VVVVVVVV.

She caught a glimpse of Joan's face on the caller ID. Shit. She felt around, eyes half-open, until she located the Accept Call button.

"Hello?"

"Annie, I need you in the office now, please." Annie wanted to respond but the line was already dead. Joan was on the warpath.

The clock said 1:24 a.m.

Annie stumbled into the too-bright bathroom and splashed some water on her face. She inspected the dark circles under her eyes. Despite tonight's rude awakening, they were less noticeable than they had been in months. This meant she was getting better at sleeping alone. It meant she was getting better at sleeping in general. It was progress. It was good.

Her hair, on the other hand, was telling a different story.

...

Langley was bustling. Annie couldn't remember the last time she saw this many people at work on a Monday morning, much less 1:30 a.m. on a Friday.

No sooner was she out of the elevator that she had a hop-on in the form of Auggie Anderson. He attached himself to her elbow and matched her stride down the hall.

"Morning, sunshine," he chirped with obnoxious energy.

"What are you still doing here?"

"Never left. I'm actually just headed to Joan's now."

"You too?" Annie cocked her head to the side. "What does she need to talk to you about?"

"Beats the hell outta me, Walker. Morning pep talks are usually your department. Though it might have to do with whatever imminent crisis has sent the Agency into a frenzy now."

Annie peeked around. The majority of her coworkers were not only present, but busy. "What did I miss?"

"Maybe that's what's in the box."

Auggie flashed her a grin. Before Annie could so much as knock, Joan's door flew open.

"I need to speak with Auggie first. Annie, wait out here."

Annie did as she was told. Auggie smirked. "Won't be but a minute."

...

"Please shut the door behind you and take a seat. Chair's on your left," Joan's voice was icier than usual. It put Auggie off.

"No, thanks. I think I'll stand."

"Suit yourself," Joan rustled some papers. "But you might want to sit down for this."

"For what?"

Joan took a pause. "I want to preface this by saying that your dedication to the agency is admirable. Your history of professionalism in the face of potential conflicts of interest is nothing short of impressive."

Auggie's brow furrowed. "You wanted me to take that sitting down?"

"I'm not finished," Joan snapped. "At 2300 this evening, in Washington D.C.'s International District, a Chinese-American professor named Zhen Yang sold 8 billion dollars worth of American secrets to the Chinese mafia in a backdoor dealing. Apparently, one of the parties didn't come through. Shots were fired. Three members of the mafia are dead. Yang's partner was caught in the crossfire and abandoned. It is thought that the intel never changed hands; wherever Yang went, he took the secrets with him."

"He sounds like a winner."

"Auggie, I want to reiterate that if you want nothing to do with this case, we can assign it to someone else."

"I don't understand..."

"That's where this gets dicey. Yang was a professor at William & Mary College. He taught under the name Charles Yao. His partner was his lover and former student... Lucille Anderson."

It took him a moment, but the realization hit him like a brick wall at eighty miles per hour.

"No..." The air was gone from the room.

Joan spoke as if the words were thumbtacks in her mouth. "She was shot, we believe, by accident, when Yang made the switch."

"Please tell me she's okay. Oh god please tell me she's not dead." All he could hear was his own heartbeat. He couldn't find that chair now if he tried.

"We have her in custody. The wound is not fatal; the bullet's been removed. She's extraordinarily lucky."

Auggie wasn't sure if he was going to vomit or not. Now would be a damn good time to be able to locate a trash can. "So, what, you want me to question her?"

Joan treaded lightly. "If she answers honestly, she could be our greatest asset in finding Yang and keeping those leaks from going viral."

"She's a kid!" Auggie exclaimed, clarity returning to him like a slap in the face. In a second, isolated panic had become sharp, vibrant anger. He hadn't meant to shout.

Joan's voice was hard. "She is a twenty year old woman who was romantically involved with her professor. She's hardly a little girl. If you agree to this mission, you and Walker will be absolutely invaluable."

"I need to speak with her."

"And unless you agree to the terms presented, I can't let you do that."

...

Annie was walking back to the lobby with a cup of coffee when Auggie came storming out of Joan's office, nearly knocking her over.

"Whoa. Hello,"the hot coffee sloshed across her blouse, but Auggie was already halfway down the hall.

...

Auggie gripped the edges of the sink, wondering if he could rip the whole unit out of the wall. Probably, if he really concentrated on it, but his mind was a thousand places at once, a million little lights bouncing around in the dark. He couldn't focus his energy on just one. He tried to catch his breath, to no avail. He was spitting fire.

The door opened, followed by the clipped echo of high heels on linoleum.

"You're not supposed to be in here," said the bastard taking a leak nearest the exit.

"What are you, my mother?" Walker snapped. The guy scurried away without washing his hands, leaving Auggie and Annie alone.

"What are you doing?" Auggie demanded. He was the worst version of himself right now and he knew it. When he was calm again, he'd regret it, but not right now.

"Thought I'd reminisce a little. It'd be more poignant if you were on the other side of a stall door, but this will do just as well." She retrieved a towel from the automatic dispenser and ran it under some water. "Plus, you got coffee all over my shirt, so I'm killing two birds with one stone."

She took her time blotting the shirt as he seethed. Her calm was contagious. He slowly felt the acidic rage evaporate in the face of her cool demeanor.

"So," Annie put a hand on his shoulder. "You wanna tell me what that was back there?"

Auggie shook his head, feeling like an obstinate toddler. There weren't words, and if there were, he was in no position to string them together.

"Does this have to do with Joan?" Annie prodded. Her thumb moved almost imperceptibly, massaging his shoulder. She'd make one hell of a hostage negotiator.

He exhaled deeply, releasing his grip."They have my niece in custody. They're trying to tell me she was involved in some massive sale of government secrets to China..."

Annie removed her hand. "You're kidding."

"Someone shot her."

"What? What happened?"

"I don't know. I don't know... They want her to be an asset but I can't..." He brought his fist down on the counter. Hard. Ow.

Annie's phone buzzed from the depths of her pocket.

"And there's Joan with the news," she snarled. "Right on schedule."

She didn't answer it, though. Instead, she put her arm across his shoulders and leaned in, so her lips were only inches from his ear.

"Listen to me. This is what we do. But you're going to be all right. Whatever this is, it's all going to be all right."

And as she click-clacked out the door, Auggie realized he believed her.


	2. Papa Can You Hear Me?

Auggie's oldest brother Eric got married in Auggie's freshman year. They were a classic small-town Midwestern couple; high school sweethearts, shotgun wedding, changing their kid's diapers before they could legally drink. Springsteen wrote songs about that crap.

Eric's wife Julie had been a knockout. Platinum hair, big blue eyes, the kind of body that would make Hugh Hefner do a double-take. She was so far out of Eric's league Auggie was surprised he was even authorized to touch her. Julie was stuck at home in the middle of a blizzard when her water broke. Eric was working at a grocery store, and he couldn't get home. It wasn't uncommon to get snowed in exactly where you didn't want to be. Six months later, Julie took off, leaving Eric and Lucy in the dust. There are people who leave because they want to, there are people who leave because they need to, and there are people who leave because they're scared of being left. Julie was the third kind. Eric responded by moving out of his parents' and pursuing his bachelor's, then his master's and eventually his PhD.

All of the time away for school left Lucy at Auggie's parents' much of the time. She was there while he was in college, when he came home for Christmas, right before he shipped out. His other brothers had families of their own, but his parents always seemed to have Lucy. "She's our fifth kid," his mother joked once. So, when Eric wasn't, Auggie was. He taught her Morse Code, watched endless bad horror movies with her, showed her how to throw a spiral and play 'House of the Rising Sun' and whistle with a blade of grass. Being with Lucy always took him somewhere else. He couldn't be hostile or sad around her, couldn't be resentful or caught up with work. Coming home meant tall grass and sunshine and hanging out with Lucy, even if he only made it once or twice a year.

Until five years ago. He was invalided home and basically told that man was not meant to be alone. He didn't want to be with his family. He wanted to be by himself in a dark room with a warm gun. But after that brilliant march into traffic, he didn't have that option. It was Lucy who helped convince him that he still had stuff to live for. That life in the dark was better than no life. She was fifteen and it was her turn to teach him things.

Now, he stood behind two-way glass in an interrogation room at Langley. If everyone was to be believed, his niece was on the other side, with a bullet wound, waiting to be questioned by government agents. Things were about to be harder than they'd ever been, and he wasn't ready.

The room was cold, colder when he stood near the glass. He wondered if the back area and the interrogation room operated on separate thermostats. He wouldn't be shocked to hear that "freezing the suspect out" was a real questioning tactic. He hoped Lucy had a coat. If he was cold, she must be freezing. Joan and Annie were out in the hall. It was decided that Annie would be conducting the first leg of the questioning, to see what they could get from Lucy without Auggie having to read her in. It sounded to Auggie like complete and utter bullshit. After the night she'd been through, his involvement with the agency seemed like a mere detail.

...

Annie flipped through the folder of photos Joan gave her, taken from a security camera. They were pretty rough, but she could make out the majority of the night's events- an exchange, a confrontation, gunfire and a man fleeing the scene.

"Remember," Joan said, breaking Annie's focus. "She was living with the prime suspect. We have the townhouse on lock, but we need more information than we think she's willing to give us. That's where you and Auggie come in."

Annie licked her lips, shutting the folder. "Joan... Do you really think forcing Auggie to get in on the interrogation is the right move here? He just wants to talk to his niece. It seems like a lot to take in right from the get-go."

"If you're asking if I wish the circumstances were different, the answer is yes. But you can't change them and neither can I. The best thing we can all do right now, is our jobs. The rest will work itself out." She reached out and touched Annie's arm in a reassuring gesture. "Good luck."

Annie nodded and pushed through the door. Auggie stood a breath away from the glass, every muscle rigid and alert.

"You seem calmer," Annie said. He didn't, but she was banking on the power of suggestion.

"What were you talking about out there?"

"I thought you had supersonic hearing," Annie tried to be teasing, her usual self. It didn't feel right.

"I'm in a soundproof room," he said flatly.

"Just running through the case file."

"She's in there?"

"Right on the other side of the glass."

"Describe the scene to me, please."

Annie was surprised. This wasn't something he usually requested in real life. When she was on a mission, sure, but questions like this he either saved for later or deduced himself. She guessed he probably knew what was on the other side of that glass, but he wanted to hear it out loud. She didn't blame him.

"Well, she's... at the table. Cuffed." Annie decided to leave out the fact that she was handcuffed *to* the table. "Her shoulder is bandaged up."

"The bandage is visible?"

"She's just in a tank top," Annie explained. "I'm guessing the rest of her clothes had blood on them."

He nodded, shivered slightly, jaw clenched. "But she's all right?"

"Yes. She's all right. Let me warm her up for you."

Annie gave him a pat on the back, squared her shoulders and sucked in her gut. It was the Army Brat in her. New situations demanded heightened defense.

The interrogation room echoed more than usual.

Annie hated this room. She'd been handcuffed to this desk. She'd also been shot in the shoulder. Look at that, three things she and the young Ms. Anderson had in common.

"About time someone showed up," the girl sneered. She had traces of Auggie: the same brown hair, cut in an angular pixie; the same big eyes, though Lucy's were blue. A more feminine version of his jaw and cheekbones. A dash of freckles and thick eyebrows. She was a lovely girl, really. Until she opened her mouth.

"I'm Annie Walker," Annie extended her hand, but the girl wasn't taking it. "You must be Lucille."

"My friends call me Lucy," the girl said, turning those big eyes on Annie. "You can call me Lucille."

Well damn, Annie thought. She was seeing the real family resemblance.

"Lucille, could you tell me a little bit about last night?"

"You're the CIA, aren't you, Barbie? You tell me."

"Lucy, if you don't help me, I really can't help you."

Lucy shifted in her chair. "What's there to say? I went out to dinner with my boyfriend, and someone shot me. You've never been shot while out with your boyfriend before, Annie Walker?"

This girl was just being a smartass, but Annie felt herself recoil. Her hand flew to the scar along her chest, a move she tried to cover by adjusting her top button.

"Excuse me a moment."

...

Annie blew back in, in a puff of Jo Malone Grapefruit.

"Daddy, baby wants you," she snarled.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Auggie had heard that whole exchange. He could practically hear Annie trembling. He could only imagine what this girl- this unusually cold and vicious version of Lucy- was going to do next. Besides, his presence was meant to be a last resort.

Annie cleared her throat and regained her composure. "She'll be glad to see a familiar face. And I need a new strategy."

Auggie hadn't been in that room since Liza Hearn. He entered slowly, carefully. He ran a hand along the back of the cold metal chair and took a seat. He'd been right. It was fucking frigid in this room. Everything was metal. What sadistic little shit designed a room like this?

Lucy sucked in a sharp breath. "Uncle Auggie."

He kept her at his seven o'clock- this would be easier if no one had to directly look at anyone else, if only on principle.

"Hey, Lucy." She smelled like sweat and metal and disinfectant and a little like Marc Jacobs Daisy. He wondered, if he could still see, if he'd be able pick her out of a lineup. He knew her voice, but that was where the familiarity stopped. He didn't even recognize her smell anymore.

"Who called you?"

"No one called me," he said wearily. "Are you all right?"

"What are you doing here?"

He could hear the panic rising in her voice. He also heard the sound of her cuffs scraping the metal bar across the table. Dammit, why did Annie think it'd be a good idea to leave that out? It was standard procedure. He was a big boy, he could handle it.

Auggie sighed. "Honestly?"

"I'm handcuffed to a desk with a bullet wound at CIA headquarters, and you're the first person who walks into the interrogation room. I think it might be sharing time."

"I'm in the CIA."

She was not expecting that. Auggie raked his hands through his hair. Now he was gonna have to read in his whole fucking family.

"You're in the CIA."

"Yeah, now do you want to retrace your steps, tell me how you ended up where you are now?"

"Honestly? No."

"How about you do it anyway."

"I got shot and left for dead while the intended target bailed with the cash, the secrets and the last of my dignity. The CIA caught wind of it, wrapped me up and shipped me to Langley."

"Who shot you?" Auggie hadn't wanted to play hardball. He wanted to talk, like they used to, and catch up. That wasn't happening. It was all facts.

"It was an accident. I got in the way."

"Who was holding the gun? Accident or not, I need to know."

"A guy."

He felt his voice rising. "A guy you were sleeping with?"

"That is absolutely none of your business. What are you, my father?"

"I might as well be and you know it," he blurted. Son of a bitch. That was a thing he meant to think. Never something he meant to say, but it was too late now. "I'm sorry... That was out of line." He wanted only to put the words back where they came from, rewind this whole night.

Silence. At this point he couldn't gauge whether it was defiant or fearful. She was giving him nothing.

He sat back in his chair and tilted his head to the sky in desperation. When he finally spoke again, his voice was softer. "I hate this. So much. And I'm so sorry that this is how the reunion is playing out, but I've gotta say, none of this sounds like you. I mean, the relationship, the criminal involvement... What happened to you, Luce?"

"It's been a rough couple years." Her voice was small, more familiar, but something about it was off. "I was majoring in Global Studies, he was my teacher's assistant... One thing led to another..."

"Wait," Auggie froze. "Say that again."

"He was my teacher's assistant," she repeated, clearer this time.

"You're missing a tooth."

Lucy recoiled. "What? No."

He could hear it clearly in the word "assistant." Couldn't place it before, but now it was all he could hear. "I'm blind, not stupid. At least tell me it's not one of the front ones."

"Bottom left."

Ten thousand potential scenarios ran through his mind. It was hard to knock out a bottom tooth when you had an overbite like Lucy's. It wasn't the kind of dental emergency that resulted from a sloppy beer bottle or an errant olive pit; usually those just resulted in chips and breaks, anyway... There was one obvious suspect for the loss of a whole tooth like that. It made his blood boil.

"Lucy, was he hitting you?"

Her voice was weary. "It's just been a rough couple years."


	3. Morning Is Broken

Before his accident, Auggie hated being touched. He was not a hugger or a handshaker or a shoulder-patter or any of that. Outside the context of sex, he just wasn't into it. He wrestled in high school, but that was different. Maybe it was the fact that those sorts of things always made him feel a little too vulnerable. Four brothers and a military background left him a very nice, sterile space bubble, and that was how he liked it.

But in the dark, it's all about touch. Touch is what separates you from a smothering void. Groping along walls, bumping into furniture- these are the things that show you how rooms are laid out. Auggie had learned to gauge appearance in a whole new way: the severity of one's perfume, the height of the crook of their arm, their balance when they reached up for a kiss. People gave off these amazing auras of heat, a thing he didn't notice until he couldn't see them any more. People were the warmest things next to dogs. Touch connected him to things and people. It was a sense he'd always overlooked.

He rode in the back of a cab, inches away from his niece. She barely gave off any heat at all. She didn't say a word. He heard her fingers rub along the wrist that had been cuffed to the table, whimper ever so softly when a speed bump jostled her injured shoulder, but she seemed just barely alive.

He tilted his face to the cold window, rested his forehead on the glass. It was raining heavily outside, and he paid extra attention to the clip of the drops as the cab sped down the street. The interrogation had been awful, but Joan was right. His presence put the fear of God into Lucy. She was in. He offered to watch her, so to speak, until they could get to work tomorrow. Even though it was 5 a.m. and tomorrow was in five hours and his life was blurring into chunks of time rather than days, again.

They left the cab and went up to his place.

"Hey, listen, when we get in here, don't-"

"Move anything. Yeah."

He dropped his keys in the bowl and made sure the door shut tight behind him.

"Nice place," Lucy commented. "Minimalistic but chic. You have someone do this for you?"

"No, I just picked through Pottery Barn till I saw something I could recreate on a budget."

Lucy snorted a laugh. She got his sick sense of humor. She was one of the first people to laugh at a blind joke. Actually, she was probably the first person to laugh after his accident, period.

"Come on, I'll grab you something of mine so you can take a shower. We can get you something real to wear later."

She followed him to his closet. He grabbed her his smallest pair of pants and one of his shirts. She sucked in a breath reaching for them. "Motherfucker."

"What is it? You okay?"

"Yeah," she said in a voice that clearly wasn't. "It's just my shoulder."

"Can I see that?" He expected a snarky 'I don't know, can you?' but she didn't offer it.

"Yeah." She put his hand on the crook of her collarbone.

He felt the bandage, snaking down to the top of her armpit. "How bad was the wound?"

"It went straight through my arm," she said. "They pulled out the bullet and stitched me up- I guess it didn't get anything too important."

"But you're in a lot of pain?" he asked. Her silence wiggled the arm slightly. He guessed it was a nod. "I can't hear your head rattle."

"Sorry, yeah."

"You're breathing pretty rapidly, can you tell me if the skin is blue at all?"

"No," she said.

"Good. Okay, you're probably okay, I just wanted to make sure... Um. Shower's that way. I'll make you something to eat."

...

Annie wasn't sure what to make of any of this.

First, there was Auggie and his niece. Annie watched him burn up in the girl's presence, as if separated from her by a wall of fire. He wanted to reach her, but she wasn't letting him. Annie was no stranger to daddy issues, but this girl took the cake. They were meeting up again in a few hours. The hope was that Annie and some of the other Tech Ops guys could figure out where.

Annie tried to put herself in his place. What if it had been Katia or Chloe in Lucy's place? Annie would be a mess. But she also would've been in contact with Danielle by now. She guessed Auggie and his brother didn't have a particularly close relationship, and it made her sort of sad by association. Auggie was a good guy. She hated that he could be so alone. Because, at the end of the day, who did he have?

That was a question she didn't know the answer to. Lucy was giving her a piece of the picture, but she couldn't be sure. He had Parker once. He had friends all over the world, but was there anyone he didn't keep at an arm's length? Anyone who knew the whole story?

Annie wondered how many people were walking around only knowing half the story. She guessed there were probably too many to name. He called her his best friend, but she suspected she was still one of them.

...

"You made eggs," Lucy sounded a little more like herself. Auggie whirled around. He hadn't even heard her come in.

"I did. I thought we could talk a little bit before we head back to Langley."

Lucy filled two mugs with coffee before he could even get to it. "If you insist."

She put one of the mugs in his hand and made herself a plate. She'd been there for rehab, she'd seen him break more mugs and dishes than anyone. She was better at the blind guy ballet than anybody else on the planet. He'd forgotten.

"We haven't spoken in years, Luce," he blurted.

"I haven't really been in touch with the family," Lucy said in a choked voice, taking a seat at the counter. "I missed you a lot though."

"I missed you too, kid."

"So," she said between bites. "The CIA."

"Tech-Ops."

"So you're, like, the Man."

"Yes," Auggie chuckled into his coffee. "I am, like, the Man."

She laughed knowingly. "The nerdy, nerdy Man."

"How about you?"

"I failed out of college, I haven't called my dad in 6 months, I'm in CIA custody, and I am sporting the worst haircut since fifth grade." She listed her failures like they were groceries. She started to laugh because he did. "Stop it! My life is tragic."

Auggie shook his head. "Don't count yourself out yet, kid, you're young."

She sighed. "I'm sorry I didn't call you."

"You should've gotten me on the phone as soon as things started going downhill," Auggie took the tone of a disciplinarian. "I would've helped you and you know it."

"Well, you weren't really accessible..."

"I didn't even know you were at William and Mary, Luce. I would've been there in 5 minutes, on your doorstep, but you never came to me. Instead, you went to your professor."

"I just worried about you too much to ask you, okay?" she blurted.

He felt himself deflate. "Is that what this is?"

"Things changed after your accident. The roles reversed and I didn't want to burden you with my issues when you were dealing with your own."

"Sounds like you have been talking to your dad after all." This reeked of Eric. Auggie could never tell if Eric meant well or not. He worried himself sick, but he actively avoided the people he claimed to care about. The thought of Lucy carrying on her father's legacy made his blood boil.

"Listen, Uncle Auggie, you have this amazing place here and apparently a great job and that's so good. It's a lot better than I expected. I went to school in Virginia because I wanted to be close enough to some family, but I never wanted to bother you."

"Lucy, I promise you could never worry about me as much as I worry about you. Not ever." He made his way over to her, tracing along the edge of the counter until he was right next to her. He opened his arms, hoping she'd hug back. She collapsed into tears. He felt himself on the brink. "But you're here now. And you're safe. I promise."

Lucy sniffed, her hot tears working into the front of his shirt. Damn, she'd gotten tall. Time was a bastard.

When she finally spoke, her voice was soft. "Are you mad at me?"

Auggie rested his chin on top of her head, really thinking it over. "No."

"No?"

"You fell in love with the wrong person and, as a result, wound up getting arrested. Under normal circumstances, I would be highly disappointed. However, I am in no place to judge."

Lucy pulled away, suspicious. He knew the look she was giving him, even though he couldn't see it. He'd seen it enough before, to last him a lifetime. "What did you do?"

Auggie tilted his head back and sighed to the ceiling. "Take a seat, it's time I told you about the woman who will never be your Aunt Parker."


	4. In(different) Treatment

The Lucy that met Annie in the lobby at 10 a.m. was very different from the one she'd met only a few hours earlier. She was cleaner, fresher, clad in her uncle's menswear.

Auggie, on the other hand, looked like hell. His clothes were unchanged, he had some stubble coming in, and the bags under his eyes could've anchored a hot air balloon. He raked his fingers through his hair and it stayed that way, brushed off his forehead in a way that was equally adorable and inappropriately boyish. Annie was tempted to reach up and fix it herself, but that would've been unimaginably awkward, partly because his reaction time was way down, and partly because she had no idea how to explain it to his niece.

"Good morning, Andersons," Annie attempted to come across as the person she had to be- the most awake, the most cheerful and the most alert of the three. "I grabbed a couple of things from home for you, Lucy, if you want to try them on. Ladies' room is that way."

Lucy obliged, taking the bag and vanishing.

"They find the piece of shit yet?" Auggie asked, taking a seat on a nearby bench.

Annie joined him. "They've found him and his car, but as long as he's in the car, a couple of agents are just tailing him. One of the mafia members has been taken into custody, but he insists Zhen Yang left with the intel." She pulled a mint out of her purse and pressed it in his hand. "Also, you have coffee breath. You all right?"

"I am the opposite of all right, Walker."

"How come you never told me about her?"

"Because my family are a bunch of meddling midwestern pains in my ass," he said with a smirk. "No, they're fine, but they worry about me. They worried about me when I was deployed- what little they knew about my deployment anyway- and they really worried about me after my accident."

"So you withdrew."

"That's symptomatic of being in the CIA," Auggie laughed. "But I'm the youngest of five sons, all really close in age, and people always kind of fussed over me. I mean, not my brothers, they kicked the living shit out of me when we were kids. But my parents. And when I had my accident, my brothers really didn't know how to handle it. But Lucy was the first grandkid and she and I always had a special bond. She was the only one who didn't treat me different after my accident."

"You should let more people in," Annie found herself saying. The exhaustion was making her bold.

Auggie raised his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Everyone knows you're more than capable," Annie said in a voice that was stronger than her own. "Lose the fear."

Lucy emerged from the bathroom in a new outfit, and Annie left Auggie on that note. Today, they all needed to lose the fear.


	5. Popping Bottles

The plan was simple. Annie and Lucy were going to go to the townhouse Lucy shared with the perp, and Lucy was going to get the intel from him, and then they were going to take him into custody. It was, in theory, so easy. Except Zhen Yang was not going into the townhouse.

Annie and Lucy cut around the back of the empty house and Lucy dug the spare key out of a hanging flowerpot. She looked good in Annie's shirtdress, tall and lean and model-thin. Annie was having clothes envy all over the place. She might let Lucy just keep it.

"Sorry it's a mess," Lucy whispered as she opened the door. "We never have anybody over."

"Gagging at the proverbial 'we,'" Auggie piped up from the other end of Annie's cell phone.

"Please don't," Annie hissed, hanging up.

The house wasn't a mess. It was impeccably clean. There were Asian tapestries on the living room wall, shelves full of leather-bound books, a large Persian rug and woven floor cushions positioned around a gorgeous round coffee table. The decor was nicer than anything Annie could dream of. This was not the kind of place a destitute student and T.A. inhabited.

"Lovely home," Annie commented.

"Thanks," Lucy said. "Charlie- I mean, um, Yang, collects antiques from around the world. He's very well-travelled."

Annie detected a hint of pride in Lucy's tone, and that scared her a little bit. This was a victim who, despite her best judgment, harbored some love and admiration for her abuser. Annie knew the feeling well, and it turned her stomach.

They took a seat on the soft leather sofa.

"So how does one hook up with their T.A., exactly?" Annie asked in her flirtiest girl-talk voice.

"He expressed an interest in me," Lucy said matter-of-factly. "He was learned and well-traveled and I guess I expressed an interest back. Eventually, he became a priority, before school. He was so absorbed in work that my education started to take a backseat... I don't know, a lot has changed since we first got together."

"What does your dad think of it?"

"Oh, he doesn't know," Lucy half-chuckled. "If there's one thing you need to know about my dad, it's that he's a worrier. Me, Auggie, my grandparents, everybody. He has this weird ability to never be present but always be obsessed with everyone's well-being anyway. It's pretty fucked up."

"What about Auggie?" Annie was so curious it hurt. "You guys seem pretty close."

"I stayed with my grandparents a lot as a kid, and he was around a lot, and I don't know, we just clicked. Favorite uncle, you know?" A lazy smile spread across Lucy's face. "He just... he always took care of me."

"Still does," Annie commented, forgetting for a minute that the whole place was bugged and Auggie could hear every word and then some.

"What's with you guys?" Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Oh we don't... I mean... Not..." Annie fumbled. Just as her phone began to vibrate in her pocket. And a key began to turn in the front lock. Oh no. "Act naturally, he can't suspect anything. Good luck."

Annie took off out the back door just as Zhen Yang entered through the front.

"Hey, baby," Annie heard Lucy say cheerfully. She stepped up on the retaining wall for a better look through the kitchen window.

Yang and Lucy entered the kitchen. He muttered something to himself, slamming his briefcase down on the counter and taking off his coat.

"Do you want something to drink?" Lucy placed a hand on his arm. He violently shrugged it off.

"Busy," he barked, frantically opening and shutting cupboards in search of something.

"Are you looking for something?" Lucy asked innocently.

"I SAID. I AM BUSY," Yang shouted. Annie could see him losing it, getting sweaty and panicked. Something was gone from the house. What was it?

Lucy went into the fridge for beverages, anyway. "What are you looking for?" she asked sweetly from the vicinity of the crisper.

Yang whirled around, moving to lay a hand on Lucy, but before Annie knew what was happening, Yang was on the floor, a bottle of wine broken over his head. Lucy stood, for a moment, like she couldn't believe what happened.

"You're looking for this, you bastard," she said to his unconscious form. She held something black and small in her hand- a credit card. "You left it in the crisper. And I swear you are not going to see a dime of it."


	6. What's Left

Lucy stood over her ex-boyfriend's inert body for a long moment. Annie decided now was the time to bust in through the back door like a damn hero, even though Lucy had just done all the damn hero work. Annie pulled her gun, training it on the unconscious Yang.

"That was impressive," she managed. "I mean, despite being a flagrant abuse of protocol."

"I found this earlier," Lucy said, handing her the card with a shaky hand. "It's what he was looking for... He has a couple million in an illegal account."

"He was going to make a break for it," Annie murmured. She shoved the card in her pocket and went to Yang's briefcase. There was the hard drive, sitting pretty. "Well, Anderson, you did good. Let's get the hell out of here."

...

No sooner was Auggie in celebration mode, Joan was in his office.

"I need you to call your brother."

Auggie spun around in his chair. "I'm sorry, I've been wearing these very expensive, noise-cancelling headphones, and I think I misheard you. In fact, I must have, because I could've sworn you just asked me to call my brother."

"I didn't ask you. I told you."

...

Lucy was awfully quiet in the passenger seat. Annie glanced over. "You okay?"

"Ask me when this is all over," Lucy said. "I'm sort of in shock."

"Well, you didn't kill him," Annie said flatly. "That should be of some comfort to you."

"Yeah," Lucy sighed. "I probably should have. I mean, he got me tangled up with the mafia and shot me and everything. It wouldn't be beyond the scope of logic."

"No, no. Trust me. Revenge kills... They don't soothe the conscience. They just create new problems."

Lucy gazed out the window at the beginnings of a rainstorm. "I, uh... I don't really know what I would've done without you."

"Thank Auggie," Annie said with a shrug. "He's got your back, Lucy. He misses you."

"I don't really know what I would've done without him... ever," Lucy conceded. "I miss him too and I just feel like I fucked everything up..."

"You didn't. I swear. He's family. You forgive your family," Annie said. Her voice softened. "Besides... he's Auggie."

The corner of Lucy's mouth turned up in a grin. "You're lucky to have him."

That wasn't what Annie was expecting, but she couldn't deny it. "Yeah. I am extremely lucky to have him."

"I really hoped he'd find his stride, you know? I had no idea this was the sort of thing he did. I mean, the CIA? Fuck. I didn't see it coming."

"I once heard that people don't choose the CIA, the CIA chooses them. I think the CIA definitely chose your uncle. It certainly chose me. And... from what I saw today, I think it might be choosing you, too."

Lucy's blue eyes widened. "I don't know."

"Come on, you took a bullet, you rendered a man senseless in like five seconds, you've got nothing to lose. You're perfect. Just think it over."

...

Eric answered on the fifth ring of the third try.

"Eric Anderson."

"Eric, it's Auggie."

"Auggie?" his brother sounded fake even on the phone. "Wow, hey, how long has it been?"

"Listen, I don't really know how to tell you this, but we've got your kid in CIA custody and we're holding her at Langley." Auggie closed his eyes and braced himself from the explosion.

"You have Lucy in CIA custody?" Eric was incredulous about every word in that sentence. But he wasn't angry.

"When was the last time you spoke to your daughter?" Auggie ventured.

"Recently," his brother lied.

"Bullshit."

Silence on the other end of the line.

"Listen, wherever you are, I suggest you find a way to get here. Your kid needs you."


	7. A Lot to Talk About

Eric, as it turned out, had been in the area. It was typical. It made him sick, that a guy with such an amazing daughter had such an abhorrent pattern of behavior. But today wasn't about Auggie's opinions. It was about Lucy.

He walked into Allen's like he was walking into a boxing ring. He and Eric were always on the opposite sides of things, parentheses in the birth order. Eric said black, Auggie said white. That was how it had always been.

Today, however, Eric met him at the door and walked him to a table.

"Been a long time," Eric said, clearing his throat. He smelled like Head and Shoulders and cologne designed for a much younger man. He bounced his knee, vibrating the table ever so slightly.

"You want a beer?"

Eric was gravely serious. "I want to know what happened with Lucy."

* *  
Lucy and Annie somehow arrived back at Langley after the recently-revived Yang. They stood on the other side of the two-way panel as Joan conducted an interrogation.

"How's it feel to be on this side of the glass?" Annie asked.

Lucy smirked. "Better. Thanks, Barbie."

"Do you have anything you want to say to him?"

Lucy sighed. "I better not. I have a lot of mixed feelings about him. A lot of stuff I need to work out on my own."

"Don't put off talking to someone about it," Annie said firmly. "Even if it's just Auggie."

Her phone rang. It was Auggie. "Speak of the devil." She indicated that she'd be right back, and went out into the hallway. "Hey, where are you?"

"Look up."

He was at the other end of the lobby, followed closely by a man a few inches taller and remarkably similar. They met in the middle and hung up their phones.

"Annie Walker, this is my brother Eric Anderson."

Eric's hair was salt and pepper, Annie guessed he couldn't have been more than a decade older than Auggie. They had the same deep brown eyes, the same cowlick, the same dimples. Annie shook his hand. "So nice to meet you."

"Where's Lucy?"

Annie fumbled slightly in the face of his abruptness. "I- I'll go get her for you."

"Thank you, Annie," Auggie said pointedly.

"Thank you, Annie," Eric repeated.

Annie poked her head into the back room.

"Your dad's here."

"He's here?" Lucy's face blanched.

"If you want, I can go with you."

She shook her head. "No, I think he and I need to talk. Thanks for everything today."

Lucy exited, leaving Annie alone behind the two-way glass. She leaned up against the back wall and sank to the floor. She took a deep breath for the first time in almost 24 hours. Her eyes were nearly closed when the door opened.

"Annie?"

* *  
"Down here, Aug."

Auggie felt along the wall and slid down beside her. "Oh man. Sitting. This is nice."

"How'd it go with your brother?"

"He and Lucy are on their way to his hotel," Auggie sighed. "I told him how I feel. About his parenting, about Lucy. About everything."

"And what'd he say?"

"Well, he didn't punch me in the face," he laughed mirthlessly. "I think he and his daughter have a lot to talk about."

"You think it'll stick?"

Auggie sighed, rubbing his eyes. "God, I really hope so."

"She needs you, Aug. And I'm sorry to say it but you need her, too."

"Couldn't have done it without you, Walker. I mean that."

Annie scooted closer and rested her head on his shoulder. She was the warmest body he knew. He leaned into her, too, letting long-deserved rest wash over him. Lucy was back in his life, his best friend was literally millimeters away. For the first time in forever, in the weird cold of the interrogation room, he felt safe. Complete. Peaceful.

"Dammit, Walker, are you falling asleep on me?"

"No," Annie lied.

"Yeah, I bet."

They sat there for a long time, listening to Joan conduct her interrogation of a man who was going to hell in a handbasket either way, before Annie spoke.

"Auggie?"

"What is it, Annie?"

"I think Lucy should join the agency."

"Yup. Moment's ruined."


	8. Up

They were halfway home before Annie brought it up again.

"No but why not?"

Auggie had been half-asleep in the passenger seat. "Why what?" he mumbled.

"Why shouldn't Lucy join the Agency?"

"Annie, you're great. You're a lovely girl. But you haven't slept in like a day and a half, and I haven't slept in two. These ideas look great now, but in the morning you're going to wonder what the hell you were thinking."

"She's smart, she's scrappy, she doesn't crack under pressure..."

"She totally cracked under pressure."

"She cracked under the influence of love and affection, Auggie."

"This is not the kind of life I want her to have," Auggie mumbled, head back and eyes closed. "Not eating, not sleeping, living at gunpoint."

"We do not live at gunpoint."

"You're swerving. You're not a good driver."

"I'm exhausted," Annie griped, pulling to a stop in front of Auggie's building. "Get out."

Auggie opened the door and unfolded his cane on the sidewalk, then paused. "Hey, do you just want to come up?"

"U-up? Like, to your place?"

"You're exhausted. The last thing we need is you wrapping your car around a tree. Just come up and crash."

Annie examined his face. He was tired. He was earnest. He was Auggie. There wouldn't be any funny business.

"Sure."


	9. Crash

Annie followed Auggie up. He dropped his bag by the door and sat down on the couch. Annie plunked down next to him and leaned into his shoulder. He shifted slightly, so they were snuggled up. Before she knew it, his breathing slowed and he was out cold.

...

Auggie was woken by a knock. He tried to maneuver carefully without waking Annie, who was curled up against his side. He slipped a throw pillow under her head and made his way toward the front door, tripping over the bag he hadn't bothered to put away.

"Who is it?" he asked as quietly as he could.

"Lucy."

He slid the door open and motioned for her to be quiet and follow him to the bedroom. "Annie's sleeping."

"It's about time you answered," she griped once the door was closed. "I thought you were supposed to have a heightened sense of hearing or something."

Auggie rolled his eyes. "For the last time, that is an urban legend that sets the bar too high for the people group most likely to accidentally walk into it."

"So your hearing isn't fantastic?"

"Don't get carried away. I was asleep. It was an isolated incident."

"All right, Daredevil, you'll get it next time."

"Do you have a place to stay?"

Lucy sighed. "Dad had already checked out of his hotel room. His flight out of here is tonight. And I don't have any money. So... no."

"So that's why you're here."

"That's why I'm here."

Auggie was overwhelmed with a keen sense of de ja vu. "Why don't you get some sleep? We'll talk later, okay?"

"Are you sure?"

"Go to sleep."

The sheets rustled as she made herself comfortable. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

As he turned out the lights and closed the door, he wondered if Annie might be right after all.


	10. Be Excellent

When Annie woke up, Auggie was nowhere to be found. It didn't help that she'd forgotten her watch and Auggie's place didn't have a single clock anywhere. She found one on the microwave. 6:23. Was that a.m. or p.m.? The grey mist outside implied that it could've been either. It wouldn't be shocking to discover she'd slept for a whole day. She'd done it before.

Behind her, on the counter, were a house key and a note. It was handwritten on the only kind of paper Auggie ever kept around, a thick card stock designed to hold Braille characters. It matched several pieces stuck with magnets to the refrigerator and around his office; to-do lists, mostly, and notes to self. She wondered if it was wasteful to write on this stuff; it was sturdy and smooth, it had to be expensive.

It always struck Annie as funny when Auggie left her notes because he insisted on handwriting them. She could easily bend to accommodate him, but he stretched to accommodate her. His writing was cramped, calculated, and not entirely straight, but it was legible.

"A- Forget about work. It's not babysitting per se. Be excellent to each other. -A"

Annie read the note several times, brow furrowed. It was definitely 6 a.m., her phone confirmed, but she wasn't sure what the note was supposed to mean... Unless...

The bedroom door opened and Lucy shuffled out.

"You get a note, too?" She held up an identical piece of paper with a not-identical message.

_Oh_. Annie nodded. "It didn't make sense at first, but now I get it."

"He is hemorrhaging money with this stationery," Lucy commented, trading notes with Annie. She was in the same dress Annie had lent her, hair mussed. She chuckled, reading. "Be excellent to each other. Classic."

Annie gave her a blank look.

"Bill and Ted's Excellent Adventure?" Lucy prodded. Annie shrugged. "That's okay, my note didn't make any sense to me either."

Annie looked down at Lucy's note. "L- Ask Annie about a farm."

She couldn't breathe for a second. "Um, okay. Are you hungry?"

Lucy ran her hands through her already messy hair. "I need coffee."

"I'd make you some, but most of the appliances here talk back."

"He uses a French press," Lucy said with a small grin. "As far as I know, it's selectively mute, but that doesn't mean I know how to use it."

"Do you want to run back to my place?" Annie blurted. "Take a shower, get some clean clothes? I know how to work the coffee maker there."

...

Auggie was all set up for a polygraph. He hated these, but Tech Operatives had to take them more than just about anyone. He knew more about the missions he coached than the field operatives, sometimes, and that made him selectively dangerous. Or something.

But this one was different. It was an FBI polygraph, a fact that made Auggie hate it even more.

They ran through the basics; name, hometown, military background, that question about his accident that they asked every _fucking_ time no matter how many times he went in, as if one day he would stand and shout "GOTCHA!" and speed off into the sunset. Then they got onto the relevant stuff.

"How do you know Lucille Anderson?"

"She's my niece."

"When was the last time you saw her?"

"You mean like literally?"

"When was the last time you were in contact with Lucille Anderson?"

"Last night."

"Were you aware, prior to the events of the past week, of her criminal involvement?"

"No."

"Are you aware of any information on the case that you have not revealed to the DPD and your superiors?"

Auggie was so tense. He knew how to beat a polygraph, but he hated doing it. He focused all his energy on the sound of the machine, the beat of his heart.

"Allow me to repeat the question. Are you aware of any information on the case that you have not revealed to the DPD and your superiors?"

"No." The word fell from his mouth like a stone. He knew a lot of things he hadn't told them. That Lucy was a turned asset. That she was being physically abused. That their conversations hadn't even scratched the surface, but already he was deeply concerned for her emotional well being.

He heard the needle jump and the pen hit paper. Damn it. First time in his life he'd failed a polygraph outright. The proctor's voice was calm. "Would you like to try that question again?"

"I said no," Auggie's voice was hard. "Frankly, I think I've tried all the questions I can handle this morning."

The proctor exhaled through his nose, his nostrils whistling slightly. Auggie could smell his breath. He hated other people's breath. The proctor tapped his pen on the edge of the clipboard for a second.

"I still have fifteen questions."

Auggie sat back. He wasn't going to walk out, but he was done with questions. Instead, he crossed his arms and set his jaw. "Fine. Shoot."

If he was going to fail this polygraph, he was going to give the performance of a lifetime.


	11. Party Foul

Annie made a pot of coffee and scrounged up a tube of easy bake cinnamon rolls from the back of the fridge. She assumed Danielle left them behind. They were cutting it close, but the expiration date was still a week away. Good thing those things kept forever.

"So," Lucy appeared, freshly showered, in another of Annie's casual dresses, rubbing a towel on her short wet hair. "Do they know what's going to happen with Charlie?"

"Who?" Annie asked blankly.

Lucy blushed. "Zhen Yang."

"Oh. He's going to trial, definitely," Annie bit her lip. She hadn't heard anything yet, but these things usually didn't end well for ex-accomplices. Yes, Lucy was a compliant asset, and that would probably keep her from a trial of her own, but Annie expected a subpoena or a polygraph demand any day now.

Lucy deflated at the thought. Annie looked at her seriously. "No one is ever going to leave you alone with him again, okay? Even if you have to testify against him."

Lucy took a deep breath and plastered a smile on her face. "So, what's this about a farm?"

Annie pulled the rolls from the oven and placed them on a trivet. "Well, you know you did really well on this last mission, right?"

Lucy blushed. "Thanks."

"Really, really well," Annie repeated. "You have what some might call 'raw talent.' That said, the Agency doesn't like to just let people like that slip away."

"What's my raw talent?" Lucy asked, confused.

"How many languages do you speak?" Annie asked.

"Fluently?"

Annie laughed. "Yes. List 'em."

"Um, my Mandarin is really good," Lucy said, brow furrowed. "I took it all through high school, and then Charlie and I sometimes spoke it at home. But with my major they had me taking Arabic and Farsi."

"You know Auggie speaks Arabic."

"You're kidding."

"There's a lot you could stand to learn about him. Is that it?"

"I speak bits and pieces of Spanish and French."

"That's incredible for someone of your age," Annie said. "I'm a linguist myself."

"So... Is that what you meant?"

"You've also demonstrated excellent reflexes, instinct and ability to keep a secret."

"What does this have to do with a farm?"

"Lucy, The Farm is where agents go for training. Before they become agents. Not everyone graduates, because not everyone is talented or prepared. Some people have a lot to lose. But you know who tend to make exceptional prospects?"

"Who?"

Annie grinned. "Scorned women."

"You sound like you speak from experience."

Annie took a bite of a cinnamon roll and licked icing off her thumb. "I met a guy, had a sexual awakening in Sri Lanka, and one morning woke up next to nothing but a note. I thought he was the one, and when he was gone, I felt I had nothing to lose. I channelled my anger and disappointment into something I could control: my performance. I was instated as an agent before I could even complete the program."

"So you're really serious about me joining the CIA?"

Annie smiled. "I've always been serious. It was your uncle that resisted."

"What changed his mind?"

"I think he finally saw that you've got nothing to lose."

...

If Auggie hadn't known better, he'd have guessed that Arthur's office was empty. The room was completely still and silent for almost a minute before he spoke, voice low as a growl.

"What in the fuck has gotten into you?"

Auggie's eyebrows shot up. He wasn't necessarily expecting that.

"You deliberately threw a polygraph," Arthur snapped like an angry parent. "And not just any polygraph, a Bureau polygraph."

"Permission to speak, sir."

"Permission denied," Arthur roared. "You have one of the longest leashes in CIA history, and then you go and pull a stunt like this? This might come as a shock to you, Anderson, but not everyone in the US government gets along with everybody else. Every time we follow protocol by passing a case along to the FBI, we put the Agency in a certain degree of jeopardy. We jeopardize our usefulness to the country, our necessity, our funding, our future."

"Permission to speak, sir."

"Denied. And every time a CIA agent makes a jackass of himself, he makes a jackass of everyone else, too. You and Walker have one of the worst track records for that."

"Permission to speak, _sir_."

"Denied. You may be the golden boy of the DPD, but the FBI doesn't care if you or your niece live or die. Intentionally blowing a polygraph may have been one step forward for your little ego, but it is ten steps back for everyone else. This was supposed to be handled by Joan, but I've been dragged into it. I just got out of a meeting where I had to explain why an asset was no longer in CIA custody, why an agent was assigned to turn a relative, of all things- and of course, I said it was because that agent had proven he could handle it, only to find out that NO, apparently, he can't."

_"Permission to speak, sir."_

"WHAT?"

"The asset is in CIA custody, sir."

"Pardon?"

"The asset is in the custody of Anne Walker."

Arthur ground his teeth. "Bring her in for a polygraph of her own."

Auggie nodded. "Yes sir."

"Your job, Anderson, depends on it."

Auggie sighed. "Yes sir."


	12. Mea Culpa

Auggie paced out in front of the building, flipping his phone over and over in his hand. He ran his cane along the side of the wall, upwind from a congregation of smokers.

Smack. Scrrrrrrape. Tap. Turn. Smack. Scrrrrrape.

Pacing used to be a lot quieter. He missed the days before cell phones, which flat-out didn't work within the boundaries of the office building. Back then, you could procrastinate on a phone call without freezing your ass off.

"Siri, call Annie." Auggie hated Siri. Her voice reminded him of ninth grade, when he'd taken Advanced Placement classes and Home Economics was the only elective that fit in his schedule. He could swear that the phone assistant and Mrs. Pritchett the home ec teacher were one and the same. Her class hadn't been all bad, though. Before he went blind, he was a wiz with a sewing machine.

"Hey!" Annie's voice snapped him back into reality. He stopped pacing.

"Are you with Lucy?" he asked.

"Yeah, we're hanging out at my place. I talked to her about the farm and-"

"Listen, you guys need to get down here ASAP."

"Is something wrong?"

Auggie massaged the bridge of his nose. "I've gotten us into some hot water, so to speak."

"We're on our way."

She hung up. Auggie stood frozen, on the phone with no one. "Drive safe."

...

Annie and Lucy flew to the DPD at an alarming speed. Auggie met them at the elevator. Annie sat Lucy down on a bench and signaled for her to give them a moment of privacy.

"You got my notes?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Were they legible?"

"Yeah, although I don't understand why you wasted that special paper. You didn't have any printer paper lying around?"

Auggie rolled his eyes. "It makes no difference to me if a paper has writing on it."

Oh. Annie hadn't thought of that. "So are you going to tell me what this is all about?"

Auggie sighed. "I... threw a Bureau polygraph."

"You... threw it?"

"Yeah, Einstein, it's like failing but on purpose."

"Auggie, why the hell would you do that?"

Auggie proceeded as if he never heard the question. "Arthur has called Lucy in for a polygraph. Thanks for hanging on to her today."

"By 'hanging on' do you mean 'keeping her in custody'?"

Auggie chuckled mirthlessly. "Now you're getting it."

"Auggie," Annie was serious now. "Are you okay?"

Auggie looked at her, his weary eyes very nearly locking with hers. "I really fucked this one up."


	13. The Confrontation

Auggie and Annie were sent to Arthur's office to wait out Lucy's polygraph. Admittedly, sitting in Arthur's office made Auggie more than a little uncomfortable, especially now that he was in trouble. He felt like a kid in the principal's office; usually Annie was the one in trouble, and Auggie came in here to sort things out. He'd maintained an excellent rapport with the Campbells, and now he might lose it all. His fate sat in the pulse of his twenty year old niece.

It was Joan who broke the silence. "It was my idea to assign Auggie this case."

"It was my idea to do things the way we did," Annie countered.

"It was my fault for letting any of you have any say whatsoever," Arthur snapped.

"Well God help us all for trying to do something a little different," Joan snapped back.

"I flipped her," Annie said, her voice less sure than before.

"How can you be sure?"

Annie shifted in her seat. "We had a long talk this morning."

"Exactly what did you have to promise her, off the record, to get her to choose the United States government over the Chinese mafia?" Joan's voice carried more than a little concern.

_Tickets to Disneyland,_ Auggie wanted to snap._ Her very own pony._

But Annie didn't crack. "I told her my story."

"Which version of this story did you tell her?"

"I told her that no one makes a better spy than a scorned woman," Annie said calmly. "Which we all know is true."

"Do we all know that?" Auggie could almost hear Joan's eyes narrow. The acidity of her tone implied that she was more scorned than she'd like to admit.

"It wasn't a dig. I'm just saying, we've turned all sorts of people from the 'dark side' who wound up being our best operatives."

"You think she knows how to manipulate a lie detector yet?" Arthur bit back. "You're making this woman sound like she's some innocent schoolgirl, but you seem to forget she was in a long-term relationship with a wanted criminal from a country with which we have an extremely complicated relationship."

"People change," Annie insisted.

Arthur sighed. "You cannot view this woman as anything other than what she is, a person of interest in a very sensitive case. Joan made that mistake first, but it has gone too far."

"What about the real bad guys?" Annie demanded. "The CIA only trusts their own, but what about Lena Smith? She wasn't even investigated until it was too late. Yet, there have been millions of turned assets we barely even let in the building because of their past."

"If I were you, I would remember my rank in this room," Joan said coldly. "Reel it in."

"All I am saying is, if we get Lucy Anderson, we could get insight into the things she's seen. The things she's done. And we'd be getting one hell of an operative," Annie tried. "If she passes this polygraph, please, let me talk to her about starting at The Farm."

"Send this girl to The Farm?" Arthur scoffed.

"Please," Annie tried, her voice confident and unwavering. "If she passes this polygraph, let's see what she can do."

"If she is anything short of a spectacular spy," Arthur began, voice still raised but fury dissipating. "It is your neck, not mine."

"What about Auggie?" Joan asked.

"I'm with Annie," Auggie said, with confidence he wasn't sure he felt. She reached over and squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back, warmth radiating within him for the first time all day. "Let's see what the kid can do."

...

GUYS! Please R&R!

I would love to hear what you think (constructive criticism?!)


	14. Reminders

At some point, Arthur left to attend another meeting. Joan was called in to sit on the last leg of the test. Annie and Auggie sat alone in Arthur's office, waiting. It was nearly unbearable. Auggie couldn't stand the thought of losing his niece, but something inside him wondered if he'd been too trusting. If Lucy was a master manipulator. If he'd been taken for a ride this entire time.

Annie walked around the room for a few aimless moments, trying to shake out the tenseness that bound them both. She walked toward him, snapped an elastic off her wrist and swept her curtain of hair up into a ponytail, releasing a breeze of sweet shampoo scent.

After a moment, she stepped resolutely toward him and took his hand. He remained firmly seated, his hand limp in hers. She tugged on it gently.

"Stand up."

His tone reflected his mood. Flat and lifeless. "Why?"

She tugged again, not gently. "Come on."

"If you're thinking of being sneaky, there are more security cameras in this room than anywhere else in the world. I can't get into any more trouble if I just don't move."

She grabbed his other hand, so she held both in hers, and took a knee directly in front of him. "You are moping. Get up." As she stood, she pulled with full force, springing him out of his chair. He overshot it by one step, crashing into her. His hand found the small of her back and braced her before she could be propelled out the window.

"Sorry," he managed.

"I don't know my own strength," she forgave. "At least you're up. Not festering in that chair."

He thought suddenly of Barcelona. Maybe it was the hand on her back, maybe it was the smell of her shampoo, maybe it was the accidentally making full physical contact at a high speed, but he couldn't keep the grin from spreading.

"What?" she asked with a self-conscious laugh.

"I was just... thinking of Barcelona," he managed. If she was self-conscious then he was a train wreck.


End file.
